


Home Theatre

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-15
Updated: 2001-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:22:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: A peaceful moment of pleasure.





	Home Theatre

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Home Theatre by Kand

Home Theatre by Kand  
FANDOM: X-Files  
CHARACTERS: Krycek/o. "o" really means "other". I left the choice of the narrator/partner to your imagination...Hey, would YOU like to play the part? :o)  
RATING: NC-17. Explicit sex.  
DISCLAIMER: the character of Krycek belongs to Chris Carter, Fox, 1013 Productions. No infringment intended.  
SPOILERS: none. It's pure PWP.  
SUMMARY: A peaceful moment of pleasure.  
AUTHOR's NOTE: in French literature, this is called a "blason" - praising a part of the beloved's body...  
URL: http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/ht.html  
FEEDBACK: Kand   
BETA: thanks a lot to our dear Inky (SPAK's mistress). "English, she spelt".

* * *

Home Theatre  
by Kand

Home. At last.

I push the wooden gate, cross the small front garden filled with summer blossom and reach the door. I try the knob - unlocked. He's in. I had once wondered how he could leave our door open. He! Who used to have such high security standards?! I remember his casual answer. "Anyone dangerous enough can break in through a secure door as easily as myself. Why worry with locks when I'm here?"

I get rid of my briefcase and jacket in the empty livingroom, and hear the faint sound of music coming from the other side of the house. I can picture him, enjoying the fall of the night on the open verandah, and my heart beats a little faster. I would want to rush to him, but instead I walk slowly towards the kitchen, delaying the moment I'm longing for. Sweetest torture.

The kitchen door leading to the rear garden - the main one - is open. I lean against the frame. From here I can see the length of the wood verandah, lit up by the rays ot the sinking sun passing between the oak and the maple. The music is coming from the CD-player. I recognize one of his favourites, an Anglo-French singer, Jane Birkin. "Acid and killing-sweet" as he says. A whisper that merges with perfect harmony into the serenity of this dying summer afternoon, the gold light, the soft chirping of the birds greeting the twilight. Vic, our siamese cat, is asleep, balanced on the broad mahogany balustrade.

I've recorded all of this in the blink of an eye. My main topic of interest is stretched in his armchair, long, suntanned legs emerging from his well worn jeans shorts. His undone short-sleeved shirt, white and pale blue ckeckered, would reveal his muscular chest if it weren't partially hidden by the book he's holding with both hands. The crease at the birth of his straight nose has deepened, marking the attention he's dedicating to whatever he's reading. The long lashes for which I've already sold my soul are half lowered but his eyelids move slightly as his eyes follow the printed lines.

I peel myself away from the doorframe and walk up to him. Without lifting his head he spreads his legs for me to kneel between them. He always knows what I want, doesn't he?

I settle into his heat, resting my head against his thigh, and I kiss the soft skin at the edge of the fringed denim. One hand brushes through my hair and his husky voice welcomes me. "Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?"

I sigh deeply. "Boring. As anyday is when you're not in it." The hand in my hair continues stroking, it is comforting. I raise my head a little to have a better look at his book. "What are you reading? ...Sun Yat Sen???"

"Yup. I need to refresh my knowledge of classical strategy."

I twitch in sudden anguish. "Have you had new information? Is something brooding?"

His eyes, gold and peridot mixed, question me. Then he realises my misunderstanding and laughs heartily. "Oh God, no, nothing of the kind." Closing the book, he puts it near the CD-player and, caressing my mouth with his curved thumb, explains. "I just played with Tang this morning, and he beat me hollow."

"Tang?"

"Yeah, Tang Lee, the guy at the computer store. I hadn't played Go for years, of course. But to think I've forgotten so much, it's humiliating..."

I can't help but tease him. "C'mon, comrade Arntzen, I thought Russians were merely chess-players?" His thighs close tightly around me and I can't escape the light slap on my cheek. I go on, "If you take us any further east, we're going to reach DC via LA!"

He laughs merrily. "I'd rather stop somewhere in the South Seas. You and me in a 'fare', close to a lagoon, can you imagine?"

Oh yes, I can. I rub my cheek against his warm flesh and fondle his other leg with hungry fingers. My nose is near his groin and I breath in his male scent with delight. "I'd like..." I hesitate. I'm often shy when it comes to asking him for a new game - stupid of me; he always complies with ardour.

"Yeeeeesss?" He helps, "Tell me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do? Hmmm?"

I close my eyes, and still rubbing my face against him, I whisper. "I'd like to see you jerking off. All through. I won't touch you. Just watch you."

"Ahem. You're sure you'll be able to resist? I can make it hard for you..."

I giggle. "Well, maybe a few small kisses, a little nibbling? When you go to see a movie, you munch on popcorn!"

"Okay, but no hands. And only when I allow you. And you'll have to do something for me too, babe. I'll perform, but you'll pay me with a tale." I look puzzled, so he says, "You write a lot, but you speak very little. I'd like to hear all these words from your mouth. Do we have a deal?"

I nod eagerly. Anything he wants. I drown in his wonderful eyes. Everything is so easy when he's in control. I clear my throat and I sigh. "Yes, Alex."

His smile is, let me estimate, 6.5 on the Richter scale. I'm safely secured between his legs, otherwise I'd crumble to pieces. "What would you like to see? Do I keep my shorts, or should I take them off?"

Decisions, decisions. I'd like to see him against the fringed fabric, okay, but I'd...

"With words, babe. You *tell* me. Loud."

I try to speak - I really do!... I stammer. "If you keep your shorts, I..."

He waits. He can be very patient, I should know that. His curved thumb is always petting my cheek, the corner of my mouth.

I take a deep breath. "I'd like to see you... your cock, against the fabric of your shorts. It's..." I search for the exact words. "It's arousing, the contrast of textures." Shit, this sounds rather technical. "The softness of your flesh, and the roughness of the denim. It's... wild." I search his eyes and read a pleased approval in them. I feel bolder. "And half undressed, it's kind of, furtive? But," I decide, "we haven't to hide here. And you will be more comfortable without they, and I'll be able to sit closer to you. And I'll be able to... see..." There we go, I'm stammering again.

"To see *what*?" Alex really enjoys my difficulty. But his voice is so tender. It's worth a little discomfort.

"To see your balls better." There I've said it. In a breath I quickly add, "And the skin below them. I love it. And your rosebud." I'm not quite sure my voice is still audible on the last sentence.

"Okay, no shorts then", he says. First he turns towards the CD-player, hits the repeat button twice, and lowers the volume. The whispering voice and the orchestration behind is no more than background music now. I stand up on shaky legs, leaving him room to move. He undoes the button of his waistband, unzips his fly and, lifting his hips a little, he slides his shorts down his legs before kicking them aside. He reaches for my shoulders and pulls me down toward him. I part my lips to kiss him but he shakes his head and makes me resume my place in front of him.

I kneel down between his thighs, and my mouth is one inch from his crotch. But his hands are still on my shoulders, gently holding me back. I moan but he reminds me, "Only when I say so. You asked for it, didn't you?" Yes, thank you for raming the point home.

"How should I begin? Let me hear it, sweetheart..."

I rise a hand to show him but he slaps it, still lightly. "No hands. Words."

Okay. I let my hands rest on his hips and quest for his approval. A nod. Time to pay my ticket for the show. I swallow the lump that's constricting my throat and give it a try. "When you are not yet fully hard, just swollen like now... I like it when you touch yourself, putting your hand across your cock, with your fingers spread on your balls... mechanically, as though you were thinking of something else..." He does as I say and it's a delicious sight. It rings a bell and I explain, "Do you remember when we saw the '1001 nights' by Pasolini? I told you I found it far more arousing to see a man filmed that way, rather than fully erect. At the beginning at least. So... lazy. Intimate." I add, "Can you caress yourself a little? Very lightly, in that sleepy way..."

He complies and my eyes are stuck to his hand, his skillful fingers, rubbing across his length and his heavy balls. He's half erect, his foreskin still covering the whole of his head, hiding his sweet glans. I buck against the armchair but fight to keep my hands on his hips. All the same I can't help but softly kiss the tender flesh of his inner thigh, causing a "Tss, tss" of reproval. His free hand is back on my skull, tilting my head back. "Good start. Now, before I go further" - and his grin is feral - "I wish you to tell me how I feel under your fingers, how I taste on your lips, in your mouth. Not what you usually write, not what every man is thought to feel, or taste of to every lover. How *I* feel, to *you*."

Good. How do you abstract the paradise? Alex, Alex. "I'm going to try. But let me think..."

"You shouldn't have to... Just feeling. No thinking."

"If you want me to *say* it out loud, I must find the words. And I don't want to lie." My eyes are back to his cock that's growing a little harder under my gaze. Yet his fingers are still moving without any haste. He's waiting for me. I have said it already, haven't I? Nobody is as patient as my Alex. "Your skin... okay, it's neither velvet, nor satin, nor silk... It's... flesh, and it is far smoother than anything I have ever touched."

"When you're half swollen, like now, I can hold you in my mouth effortlessly; I wish I could fall asleep that way, like a child sucking away at his thumb. It tastes, uh... warm. Hot. Soft. Very tender. And there's your smell everywhere around me. Musk, soap, salty, a little sweat... Just you. Your scent, I can't define it. It's you, that's all. I'd recognize you in the darkest night without even touching or hearing you, just by your very smell."

He's listening to me and his breath has become a little deeper. His thumb rubs the foreskin now, always lightly, but more rhythmically. I look lower, at the heavy sac hanging under his long parted fingers. "Your balls..." Well, how am I going to describe what I feel when I kiss them? "Same smell, but it's..." Fuck, I'm short of words. "I love to feel them rolling under your skin. I wish I could take them both in my mouth, like an enormous candy, but I can't, they're simply too big, I can have only one at a time. Hum. The skin is more, thick? No, not exactly. Uneven. They feel like fruits, ripe ones, with a soft pit inside, well protected. And," I add with genuine enthusiasm, "I love to lick them, from underside, and all around, and between them, and your hair tickles my nose..."

I stop as his finger is mimicking my words and I feel really hot. I won't stand it till the end! He spreads his legs a little wider with a moan and his cock jerks, the top of his head freeing itself from the protective skin. His hand closes around his shaft and begins a slow motion along it.

"Go on, babe. It feels so good to listen to you..."

Hmmm, time to return to the other end. "Your glans..."

"Yeah?" His curved thumb strokes it once, making his member jerk again. "How does it feel when you put your lips on it?"

"Velvet, satin, silk... No, I'm kidding! It's so much softer than all that. What could I think of? Perhaps, if one could kiss the wings of a butterfly... Yes, I think it could be - almost - as soft and as sweet as your skin there. So thin, so delicate. When I suck you," (I'm probably blushing) "I'm always afraid to hurt you with my teeth. I take care, but you're so large, it's difficult not to grind on your skin. And I keep thinking I'm going to scratch you. I don't know how you can stand it."

His hand slides from my hair to my temple, rubbing tenderly. "You're so careful. No, you never hurt me. And I like to be pressed between your palate and your tongue, so hot... 'Drives me crazy. But you know that. Then?"

I'm lost both in the actual sight and in my memories. "Then, I love to kiss the slit at the very top. It's like a small, tiny mouth... A fairy mouth? It answers my kisses, gives me to drink your very essence... I love when I find a drop of your dew pearling there, just a tear of pleasure... I wish I could slip my tongue into it - of course I can't, at least I try..." Alex has increased the motion of his hand, his rod is fully erect now. The head is free, showing a fine fold of flesh under it. I'm dying with desire to nibble at it. He understands and he pushes his member down for me to kiss the tip. I eagerly close my lips around the extremity then I dare to lick at the hanging flesh.

He's already taking it back from me and I whimper.

"You see what you do to me when you're bold enough to tell me how you feel?" The graveled voice makes my head swirl. I desperetaly clutch at his hips. A long forefinger parts my lips and enters my mouth, I suck on it with delight and gratitude. Then it retreats to caress my lips and the low voice asks, "Go on. Please, make me harder yet. You're doing so well. Stroke me with your voice..."

Oh my God. Where was I? The little fold under the crown, I just had a taste of it. "The skin, under, where I just licked you... 'Looks like, I don't know the word. You know, under the head of a cock. I mean, the bird." I hear his clear laughter above me and I feel stupid.

"Yeah, I suppose that from where you're looking at it... But how does it taste?"

"Fine, thank you."

"Love...?" The menacing tone of his voice is fake, but I know, I cheated.

"Fragile, like on the head... Very thin. And sort of... wet. Even when it's not. No, I can't explain better. Maybe like... uh, the inside of the cheek. Really smooth. Or the piece of flesh under the tongue. No, smoother. Anyway," I conclude, "I just like to nibble at it!" Alex's cock jerks once again, nicely answering my appreciation. "Please," I ask, "can you caress your balls?"

"You like this, don't you?" Why does he even ask? Of course I do. But he kindly offers me a little show, he curls his beautiful hand around his sac, squeezing himself cautiously, his thumb rubs the underside of his hard rod. His fingers make his balls roll right under my nose and I must look like a rabbit hypnotized by a swaying snake. He takes pity on me and pushes my head down a little, allowing my mouth to reach the warm flesh. I rub my nose in the hollow between his balls and his cock, filling myself with the scent of him. He holds them for me and let me lick him all over, lifting the heavy scrotum with each stroke of my tongue. I'm purring.

Once more he chases me away from Eden and I'm back with my cheek against his thigh. His leg is slightly shaking now. I know that his completion is approaching and I'm eager to see him climax in front of my very eyes. Wasn't that what I asked for?

His breath has become shorter and his hand has resumed its stroking motion along his cock. The veins are clearly visible now, pulsing with his increasing heartbeats. He tries to keep a steady rhythm to put off the rush of his pleasure. He's doing it for me, and I love him so much. My Alex. What can I say to make your orgasm stronger still? If I was allowed to suck you right now, what would I do?

"I wish I could caress you with my mouth. First I'd lick your cock, all along, all around, and I'd nibble on the muscle of the underside, softly. Then I'd suck at the tip, very gently." I see a drop of precum shining in lovely response. "I'd drink that little drop of your, hmmm, can feel the taste... Then I'd take you whole. I'd engulf you to the hilt." His hips buck against me and he groans. Perfect. "I'd suck you, slowly at first, but taking the whole of you each time. And I'd squeeze with my tongue when pulling out. Or when swallowing you back? I still don't know exactly what you like the best. You should tell me, you know."

"Both!" he gasps.

"Oh, okay. Then I'd go on sucking and squeezing at the same time, pressing you against my palate. And I'd try to deepthroat you - but it's difficult," I purr, "because you're so big. I'm not sure if I could breath anymore." His moves have become erratic now. I glance at his eyes, they're closed and his beautiful curved lips are parted; he's breathing hard. Oh Alex, what a pity you can't see yourself. I could stay lost in admiration of your perfect face gleaming with pleasure. But you're performing for me, aren't you? Let me take you there.

"So I..." - hum, I need to clear my throat, my voice is hoarse. And it's not from fatigue. "I keep on sucking you and you put your hand on my head to show me the exact rhythm you want. You can move your hips too, I love it when you fuck my mouth..." His body responds to my words and it's fascinating to look at him. "I cannot resist, I need to touch you. So I play with your balls with my left hand." Of course, I don't move, but I squeeze his right hip with the hand resting on it. "And I make them roll just as I wish..."

I glance up at his face again, I want to see his reaction. "... I caress your perineum with my other hand, then I circle your opening with my forefinger..." He inhales sharply and his whole body tenses. I know how to do that: I know how to please him, and I love to, but I never let him know. Usually I let him do all the talking. To see him so turned on makes me bold, much more than I ever thought I could be.

"I turn around it, I'm teasing you... Do you like what I'm doing to you?" A groan answers me. Delicious. "But I don't want to be cruel. I can't. I slip my finger inside you, slowly, little by little. And I continue to fondle your heavy, warm balls, so soft, so sweet... You're fucking my mouth harder now." I'm trying to match his actual rhythm that's running wild. "I push my finger deeper inside you, and I find your love spot, the one you've taught me. I touch it, again, and again, and again... Oh, Alex, I feel you jerking with each thrust, you're so beautiful, you're going to come for me, my sweetest one..."

His left hand is grasping my hair, crushing my cheek against his thigh, and his right one moves at increasing speed on his tortured member. He moans continually and I rub his hips as I speak. He's so close now, oh God, how I love him.

"I feel you, love, your climax is building, deep inside you... I feel it with my tongue, my lips, my throat, my hand, my finger deep in your channel... Alex, please, come for me, please... I want to drink you, please, Alex..."

His body arches suddenly and his long scream explodes in the twilight's peace, as his jerking hand milks himself stroke after stroke. I look at his love member, throbbing and splashing load after load on his tense fingers and across his belly. His pleasure seems to go on and on, unending. At last he falls back in the armchair, his hand gently resting on my head. I adore him. I worship him.

"Please, Alex?... I'd like to lick you clean. May I?" I plead and his foggy eyes reopen, those lovely long lashes rising like a silken curtain, revealing that all the green and the gold have been eaten by the black of the irises. His exhausted smile thanks me and he nods as his hand pulls my face toward his groin. I'm immediately on my knees and I feed on him with obvious greed. I'm lapping up his come like a kitten allowed a full plate of rich cream. And is it not so? I take my time and I don't let go of him till he's all fresh and clean. His arms are resting lazily on my back.

Then I lay my cheek on his now flaccid cock, licking my lips for the last drops of his essence, and my eyes meet those of the siamese, glowing in the half darkness. It's still sitting up on the mahogany balustrade and looking at us with a patronizing stare. Alex's glance has followed mine and his happy laughter rings in the growing shadows that surround us like a warm blanket.

"Jealous!" he says to the cat. And to me, "Did you enjoy the movie?"

"As much as you enjoyed the lines. I hope that we'll be able to rent the tape again."

(The End)


End file.
